Edge of the Ravine

48

Chapter Forty-Eight

There is a very real anxiousness that comes with having a lot of people you don't know attempting to console you for a death you honestly don't regret. Though is never met any of these people in the course of the nine years I lived with Amelia, they poured in to offer comfort and food that would never get eaten. Turning them down and turning them away as best as I could, the tiny little shack that had once been my prison and Amelia's haven was still overrun with strangers. Truth be known, my anger rose with every new arrival and I knew Amelia to be cursing in her grave.

All I could think of that was, it's your fault, old woman. If you'd hung on longer, we wouldn't have a load of trespassers.

Of course, there was one being whose presence here seemed even more right than my own.

After Alec's speech over Amelia's grave, he'd vanished as silently as he'd appeared and the next place I found him was at my own house in a very different attire.

My eulogy for my lost great-aunt had been brief and to the point, adding myself in no great light amongst her ancient friends. It also did not help that I could in no way contradict my friend.

Though Alec hadn't truly wanted to say those things—his commitment to tell the truth of Amelia sealed in a promise my great-aunt had nearly demanded of him—I could not deny the veracity in which Amelia's character was painted. My great-aunt had taken no pains to be liked by either me or my friend. To praise her death for actions she had not committed in life was more than I or Alec could do for her. Yet, the tail end of Alec's speech lingered in my mind and I could do nothing but hope and pray that everyone else would just go away.

I found more comfort in this estranged ex-lover than I did in the entire houseful of absolute strangers.

Even as my mind was filled with all of my own concerns, yet another person walked through the door of my tiny shack. Following some universal description of me, the little old lady with the flowered hat scuttled a casserole dish stretched out to me. I had to bite my tongue.

Then she said those horrifying infuriating words that no one really wants to hear after a death of someone they knew. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

I snapped. "Well I'm not." I bit off the end of each word and the volume of the excess multitude of people suddenly died. "I'm not sorry that she's dead. And I doubt she'd have liked to stick around. Especially to see her house so full of unwanted and uninvited visitors."

To be fair, I did my best to keep my cool. But it was so very hard when I was pressed with consolation I didn't need. When the house I grew up with was being molested by people I didn't know. And when all I wanted was to be alone so I could finish what I needed to and go home!

Looking around me however at all the bug-eyes people watching me as I was a rabies-infected canine, however, did not draw upon my pleasant side. "I know you're all here to offer your condolences. I know that this is somehow considered the right thing to do when so,some you know dies. And I am positive it was done with all of the best intentions. But best intentions doesn't make your being here any more light than me kicking you out like it.

"I tried to be nice and allow you your own recollections and solace in coming here. But you've got to go. This is her house for crying out loud. How can you even think of coming here when this is where she came to escape from everything going on in your lives? If she wanted to deal with you all, you'd have been invited. And I don't even know you! I definitely don't want you here. So get out. And take all of your comfort food with you."